Crazed Adoration
by Drabble Box
Summary: A group of one-shots about the relationship between the Joker and Harley Quinn. Nolan-verse. Rated for language and abuse.
1. A Bad Joke

**A Bad Joke**

…Joker/Harley is love.

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><p>He licked his lips in frustration. They'd set him a room with only a table and two chairs, one of which he occupied. He linked his hands and put them on the table. His eyes darted around the room slowly. It was so white in here. So bland and boring. Perhaps he could fix that with a bit of paint, if only they'd let him have a little bit.<p>

He ran a hand over his chin. Speaking of paint, the bit he had on his face was beginning to wear off. It crusted in his hand. He drew his lips back in annoyance and shook his hand a few times to be rid of the white and red flakes. With the same hand, he ran it through his greasy, green, matted hair. He needed to brush it.

At this thought he smiled and giggled at himself. Brush his hair... right.

He wiped his palm off on his purple pants, and then shoved his hands in between his knees, heaving a heavy sigh, waiting. What exactly was he in here for?

Arkham Asylum. It even sounded as ominous and creepy as it was, so of course, he fit right in. Just like home. He'd been here for about three months now, and they only ever let him out of his cell to eat. But that had never been any fun. For one, he had absolutely no privacy. There was always a gun pointed at him ready to fire if he tried anything funny. But what use was trying something funny when none of them would even talk to him so that he could crack a joke.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. This whole place was stupid to him. It was a bad joke. There were so many places where he knew exactly how to escape if he ever wanted to. Even will the mounds of guns that were constantly pointed at him he could get out. All the security was wasted. They should be patrolling the outside more than the patients, he thought.

The door on the right side of the room opened and in walked a blonde woman, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She carried a clipboard, a notebook and wore glasses, a white coat with a light red dress underneath, and some very noisy heels. She looked like a very stereotypical doctor to the insane.

She pulled her glasses off and sat in the chair opposite to him. "Hello, my name is Doctor Harleen Quinzel." She told him, concentrating on straightening the papers and readying to take her notes during the session.

He raised his eyebrows. "Harleen Quinzel?" he questioned with a smile. "You know, if you change that, it could be something like—"

"Harlequin. Like the clown." She said, sending him an irritated glance from looking down at his file. "You aren't the first to say so."

She was feisty and argumentative. She was also young and attractive, but he didn't get the feeling that she was naïve.

This... was going to be fun.

* * *

><p>R&amp;R. It makes me happy.<p>

Katie


	2. Alone & Broken

Alone & Broken

Inspiration for once…

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><p>He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and slapped his hands down onto his knees. His tongue flicked out and ran across his bottom lip.<p>

The walls in the shabby apartment he was hiding in had torn wallpaper. Ugly wallpaper. It should just be taken completely off the wall. In his annoyance, he chewed on the inside of his cheek, biting down almost as hard as he could, and pain making his cheek numb.

Behind him, there was a sigh as Harley turned over in the creaky bed. He looked over his shoulder at her, half-glaring. The wooden chair he sat in at the other side of his room moaned as he stood slowly. "Something wrong?"

Almost startled by her, The Joker turned his head abruptly to the side. It was a tired question that she asked him every day she woke up and he wasn't sleeping next to her. He didn't sleep as much as she did. Only as little as he needed, normally no more than four hours at most, an hour to none at least.

The bed whined under her weight as she jumped off the bed. She questioned him again, but he did not answer. His finger twitched at his side as she came to stand beside him, fully facing him. "Puddin'?" she paused. "Mr. J?" Another pause. "Joker?"

Slower this time, he licked his bottom lip, glaring at the disgusting wallpaper. Harley reached up slowly to touch his shoulder, her fingers brushing his patterned shirt.

Suddenly an incoherent yell erupted from his lips and he shoved her away, kicking over his chair. Then he reached up, his fingers finding a crease in the paper and he ripped half the remaining wallpaper from the wall.

His surprise fury built and he looked down at where Harley fell to the floor. Must she always be weak? He reached down, grabbed the front of her clothes, and dragged her up to face him. He searched her eyes for some type of anger, revulsion, or some betrayal to what she was really thinking. All he saw was a mixture of sympathy and fear. But not fear for her. Fear for him. She rarely ever did anything for herself.

Frustrated, he licked his lips again and threw her to the floor, running a hand through his hair. It wasn't right for him to feel so conflicted. There was nothing in the world he cared for. Nothing that he really wanted. No exact point in life.

Run down, he collapsed on the floor, his back placed against the wall, his head raised up to rest there as well, and his eyes staring at the ceiling.

He was unsure of how much time past before he felt Harley's presence beside him. She did not attempt to touch him this time, convinced it was her fault that he had the abrupt lapse of control.

Eventually, he moved his head from the wall, and stared straight ahead of him. His eyes glanced down at her. She was not looking at him, but instead her hand. When she fell, she must have cut it, because blood stained her pants and was smeared across her hand.

He turned to her and looked down at her hand. Tears fell silently down her cheeks and she did not look up at him. He took her hand in his and examined the wound. He ran his thumb across it, her blood running onto it. She winced slightly at the pain and still did not look up at him.

Still holding her hand, he turned to look at her face. "Look at me…" he said quietly. Reluctantly, she obeyed, as she always obeyed.

He stared at her features, carefully studying the angles of her face as he so often did. He reached his free hand up and ran his thumb along her cheeks, smearing her blood in the places his scars would have been on her face.

Two more tears ran down her cheeks, the blood being caught in the flow and running with them. He'd kill anyone that dared to touch his Harlequin.

Finally, he turned away from her, though her hand stayed in his own.

Timidly, Harley moved closer to him. She moved her face to his cheek, and gently kissed the scar on his right cheek. He leaned his face closer to her, refusing to look at her.

His eyes betrayed emotion, real emotion, other than the laughter that he usually betrayed. He closed his eyes.

"_And here… we…go!" he said happily, timing the explosion perfectly._

_Silence._

_No…That's not right. He knew what was coming. He knew it would happen. The civilians were going to kill the mob collection. That's what was supposed to happen._

_His smile disappeared as he waited for it. Waited for the boat to burst into flames. It never came. He turned away from the scene and looked at the clock. It was time. It was past time. No…He wasn't wrong. He knew people, and he knew exactly what should happen. No one was good…_

"_What were you trying to prove?" The Batman growled under the weight of the pole against his neck. "That deep down, everyone's as ugly as you?"_

_Angrily, The Joker threw away his pipe that he'd used as a weapon to beat Batman down with._

"_You're alone."_

Alone.

"Stop." He whispered, dropping Harley's wounded hand and moving it to take the one that was gently stroking his jaw.

Her fingers grasped around his thumb. "What do you need?" she asked. "Tell me."

Finally, his eyes connected to hers. He stayed there for a moment, their hands between them.

"You know…" he started. "Sometime I forget why I'm still alive…"

Her eyes flashed with fear again. He'd never shared something so personal with her before. Never let her completely in. With her free hand, she reached up and rested one hand on his cheek. He let her leave it there.

He didn't know how to continue with his sentence. He wanted to tell her so many things because she was the only one who cared.

She cared. Harley cared about him. And he cared about nothing.

And she knew that. Yet she would still follow him until the ends of the earth. She would put up with his abuse, his anger, his madness. She would kill for him, would be killed for him. Anything he wanted, anything he needed, she was there.

So maybe he wasn't so alone. And maybe that was okay with him. Because maybe he cared about her too.

Something tingled on his cheek. He came back from his thoughts and looked at Harley. Complete shock showed on her face.

He cursed himself for it. Cursed himself for the tears that were now running down his cheeks freely and silently.

Unable to look at her, he took both his hands back, wrapped them around her waist, and brought her to him, burying his face into her shoulder. She immediately responded and wrapped her arms around him, holding the back of his head in place.

Tightening his grasp on her, he kissed the hollow of her neck and moved upward. He pulled back and looked at her. He was almost human again.

He took her face in his hands, her hands wrapped gently around his neck, their bodies pressed against one another.

"You." He answered her question from earlier.

"I'm here." She replied, her eyes shining. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You… You complete me." He whispered.

Harley couldn't stop herself from bringing her lips to his at that point. And for once, he couldn't stop himself from letting her, and allowing himself to kiss her in return.

He might not be alone, but he was surely broken. But it was Harley's job to pick up the pieces.

* * *

><p>The JokerHarley? Fluffy? That's new. Well… it's not entirely fluff. I just really like the idea of The Joker crying, and Harley being there for him. He's the most interesting character in the world to me, and I find it really interesting to search the other sides of him.

This was inspired by so many things, I can't even list them all.

RIP Heath & Brittany. Forever The Joker & Harley.

Katie


	3. Stand in the Rain

**Stand In The Rain**

I'm just on a Joker/Harley roll. I can't think about anything else right now! I just have to write it out once I get an idea because I'm afraid it will leave me!

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><p>The first time Harley left, The Joker just sat around and waited for her to return. It hadn't been anything major; she just wasn't accustomed to his lifestyle yet. He knew she'd be back soon.<p>

And not even a day later, she was back on his doorstep, begging on hands and knees for his forgiveness.

The second time she left, there was more tension in the air. The Joker even stuck his head on the door a few times to see if she was coming down the street. In his eyes, it was never major, but in Harley's, he went a little far shoving her in the closet until she managed a way to break herself out. She even packed her things and stormed out with a little suitcase.

It took two days for her to return that time.

Third time's a charm, right?

The door slammed, shaking the shabby two-room motel apartment. Harley looked up happily from her magazine. A slamming door meant one of two things. One, the job went extremely well, consisting of at least two dead, one alarm triggered, and five severely wounded. Or two, the job was a bust, consisting of being stopped by Batman, or it was just plain ol' boring.

Harley always hoped for the best, wanting to possibly cheer him up with a smile if it went bad.

"Hey puddin'!" she said cheerily.

He didn't respond as he shrugged of his jacket and threw it on the ground. Even on his scarred, made-up face, she could see his frown. The job had been a bust.

"Boring night?" she asked hesitantly as he dragged himself over to the bed, no bothering to take his shoes off.

He grunted as he rolled onto the bed, his head on the pillow staring at the ceiling, his arms folded across his stomach and his legs lying flat.

Harley sat cross-legged beside The Joker, turned completely towards him. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

"Nothing happened, Harley." He snapped at her, his eyes not leaving the stained ceiling. "It didn't even start."

She tilted her head to the side, her blonde strands falling over her shoulder. "How come?"

"Look outside and tell me what you see." He responded, closing his eyes and tossing her arm across his face to shield any light protruding through his eyelids.

Harley hopped off the bed and pulled the curtain to the single window in the whole place to the side a crack. It was dark and it was raining, the drops hitting the glass softly.

"And?" she asked, turning from her place by the window. "It's dark and rainy, what's the big deal?"

The Joker's eyes shot open and he sat up from his place on the bed. "Harley. If I go out in the rain, when it's pouring _that_ hard, my whole face will become a soggy, painty, runny mess." He swung his legs over the side of the bed. "And I can't have that."

"Puddin', that's silly." Harley smiled. "So your make-up runs a little bit, who cares?"

"_I_ care, you idiot!" The Joker raised his voice, standing and advancing on her. "Why the hell do you think I put it on to begin with! It's a goddamn _mask_ of a _mask_! It's me hiding my unreal self, and putting my _real_ self where everyone can see! IT'S A PART OF WHO I FUCKING AM!"

"Mr. J, I was just thinking—"

"And sense when do you have the god-given power of thought? Huh?" He asked, shoving her into the wall. "Since when do _you_ have any say or any thought to any goddamn thing I do? Huh? Since when Harley! Since when did you bestow this honor upon your FUCKING UNWORTHY SELF?"

He brought his hand back and slapped her across the face, sending her flying to the ground. Immediately she scrambled into a sitting position, scooting slowly away from him. Not like she had anywhere to go. There was a wall between her and escape.

"I'm sorry, puddin', I just wanted to help! I always wanna help ya!" she said, trying to justify her actions.

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, HARLEY?" He yelled, towering over her. "I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!"

The Joker swung his foot back and kicked her two good times in the stomach, leaving her coughing and choking for air. Pacing back and forth for a minute, running a hand down his face, and continually glancing at her he debated with himself. All he was doing was taking his anger out on Harley. There had been no way for the Batman to stop them tonight. Everything was set in stone, except the weather.

With another cry of anger, The Joker bent over and grabbed Harley by the front of her clothes, picking her up and slamming her against the wall, bringing his face to hers.

"Why, Harley?" he asked softly. "You don't like my face? Huh? You don't like the way I look? You think I'm a freak?"

"No, puddin'…" she started weakly.

"THEN WHAT IS IT?" He yelled, shaking her.

Swinging her around her threw her into the middle of the empty room. She curled into a ball, nursing her wounds, cuts, and bruises. Tears fell silently down her cheeks.

"Just shut up, Harley. Shut up." He told her, walking past her, trying to appear as uncaring as possible.

He laid back down on the bed, adjusting his position so he was comfortable.

Time passed, The Joker was unsure how _much_ time passed, but he didn't sleep a wink. He knew that a serious line had been crossed tonight. There was a heavy tension lingering in the room. Harley didn't even climb into the bed with him to sob silently beside him. Something tonight was different.

Outside, the rain began to pour harder.

Then there was shuffling that broke the silence. The Joker looked up and saw that Harley had moved from the floor, and was now rummaging through the small closet that was by the bathroom. She went from the closet to the bathroom, then back again, then back to the bathroom. Finally, she pulled a bag out of the closet, stuffed with all her things.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, sitting up in bed.

She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears, more still falling down her cheeks. "I'm leaving, J."

"_Leaving_?" he questioned sarcastically. "So I'll see you in about two days, right?"

"Not this time, puddin'." She shook her head. "This time I'm leaving for good. I'm gonna check myself back into Arkham, so I won't be tempted to come back." She looked away from him. "I'm gonna try and get rid of you."

"Rid of me?" he asked, sitting up straighter. "What do ya mean, get rid of me?"

"I wanna be free of you, puddin'!" Harley exclaimed. "I love ya too much! I love you, and I never get to hear anything in return. You just beat on me and use me as a stress-release punching bag! I don't wanna be a punching bag no more!"

"Harley, c'mon…" he started in his futile attempts to sweet-talk her down.

"No!" She cut him off. "No puddin'. Not this time."

There was a heavy pause.

"I gotta go now." She muttered, and headed towards the door.

"Harley…" But she kept going. "Harley!" She paused for a moment as the door opened, but continued on her way out. "HARLEY!" The door shut behind her.

The Joker sat there for a long time, just staring at the door. She would come back…

But this time he wasn't so sure…

"No… no, no, no, no!" He jumped off the bed and threw open the door. She wasn't there anymore. She wasn't in sight. "HARLEY?" He called, going as far as the railing and roofing would allow.

The rain had increased. It was raining so hard, the news was probably going on and on about flash floods.

He went back inside. "She'll be back." He said to himself. "She always comes back."

He paced the room for about fifteen minutes, staring at the ground, glancing at the door, swinging his arms back and forth, twiddling his thumbs, linking his hands behind his back.

This was bad. Normally he was always very confident in his predictions, but today… today he doubted himself completely. Today, he knew he was wrong.

This was bad.

The Joker would not admit it to himself. He couldn't. Because then he'd have do admit it to Harley. Which would mean admitting he had something to lose, something that he was eternally after. He doesn't care about anything. He _shouldn't_ care about anything. Not when the world never cared about him.

Why have the world when he could have Harley?

He _hated_ what she did to him. He hated the fact that she made him feel. She gave him something to lose. She gave him a weakness. He didn't want to love her. He didn't want to want her.

But he didn't just want her. He needed her.

She was his oxygen. He needed her as much as she needed him. They were each other's drug. Something to hate, but something that one just can't get enough of.

But now they'd been cut off cold turkey.

The Joker looked at the door again. He had to stop her before Arkham separated them forever.

He went to the door and opened it once again. It was still raining. And there was still no Harley in sight.

For a moment, he hesitated. The rain…

He didn't have time to think about it. He took off out of the apartment. Harley had changed him. He'd never been this desperate for something. Never so in need for another human being or any Earthly object at all.

He rounded a corner on the next street, and there she was. Sitting on a bench, sobs that could still be heard over the pouring rain.

"Harley!" He ran to her, kneeling in front of her and grabbing her hands.

She looked up. "J?" she asked her eyes blood shot and swollen from her crying. Her blonde hair was plastered to her face. "Your make-up is running…"

The Joker gathered her in his arms, clutching to her for dear life. Tears sprung to his eyes and he damned himself for it. But still, it was like whatever emptiness he felt once the door closed behind her was filled. "Please don't leave me…" he whispered in her ear.

She grabbed him and held him back. "I don't want to…" she replied.

"Oh god… Damn you, Harley." He murmured. "Look what you do to me."

She pulled back and looked at his face. She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled. "I love you."

He licked his lips and opened his mouth to reply, but he hesitated again. She nodded. "It's okay… I know."

* * *

><p>So yeah. I don't like this very much… but I wanted to show a kind of bittersweet side of JokerHarley, not that the whole thing isn't purely bittersweet.

The Joker seems a little OOC, but I tried to make it clear that he only acts this way now because of Harley. Because she changed him in some way. This is post-Harley Joker. I'm going to attempt before-Harley Joker again, because I like that a little better. I also like him in the middle stages.

Whatever. I just love The Joker in general.

Katie


	4. Backwards

**Backwards**

I was re-reading _Joker_, which is amazing by the way, and I got to the part where The Joker was crying. And I was just kind of wondering what he might be crying about and what he might be saying. Plus, I was really irritated with the Harley in the book. I thought she was obnoxious and not needed. And slutty. And not the Harley kind of slutty… because really, Harley kind of dresses like a slut, but there is something about her that is just not slutty at all. I don't know. Kind of like Catwoman.

This isn't supposed to be what is happening in the book with Jonny Frost and stuff. It's just a… Well yeah. I think you get it. If not… just read it.

Anyways…

* * *

><p>The Joker looked out over his territory. This city was his. He had it burning from underground up. Figuratively, but what he would give to see some actual flames right about now.<p>

"Day well spent, huh puddin'?" Harley asked, coming in the room behind him.

"Depends on the day, Harley." He replied, his hands linking behind his back as he continued to observe his city.

The blonde, makeshift clown flopped on the bed. "Today, Mr. J." she sighed, taking off her mask. "Today was well spent. You killed, uh… Seven people today?"

"Eight." He corrected her.

"Eight people, then." She smiled. "I'd say it was successful, wouldn't you?"

This time The Joker did not respond. Harley tilted her head to the side. Usually on a day like this, he was happy and humming and skipping around saying bad jokes.

She jumped off the bed and put her hands on her hips. She was sporting her regular harlequin outfit. "Hm." She muttered curtly to herself looking down at her outfit. That wasn't a good thing for tonight. She needed something better, something sexier that would get her puddin' out of the grim mood he was in.

Harley skipped into the bathroom and proceeded to look through her clothing.

The Joker clenched his teeth and pursed his lips. Batman had let him kill eight people today. In fact, since he'd left Arkham Asylum he'd caught nothing of the Batman. Not a single whiff of the flying rodent has emerged. Has the Caped Crusader dropped off the map entirely?

The Clown Prince ran his tongue along his scarred bottom lip. Everything seemed so backwards. He wasn't running from anything. He was sitting comfortably in an expensive suite looking down upon the city he claimed to be his. And there was no Dark Knight to try to thwart his evil plots or his murders. He was on free rein.

No rules. No challenge. No Batman.

He wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

"Oh puddin'?" Harley called from behind him. Her voice was deeper. A tone in her voice he recognized all to well.

He frowned. "Not right now, Harley."

"You didn't even look!" she protested.

"I don't have to!" he exclaimed. "I said, 'Not right now'!"

Harley moved up behind him and wrapped her arms comfortingly around his waist. "C'mon, Mr. J. I don't know what's eatin' ya, but this'll cheer you up!"

The Joker licked his lips again. "Harley, I'm going to say this only one more time, and I swear if you don't obey me you will regret it." He lowered his voice. "Not. Right. Now."

"But puddin'—" she started, only to be interrupted by Joker ripping her arms from around him and swiftly turning around and planting a nice slap clear across her cheek.

With a cry of pain, she landed on the ground from the blow. He towered over her. "When I tell you something, you don't defy me!" He told her menacingly. "I gave you three warnings, Harley! THREE!" He held up three fingers. "And you continued! I SAID NO!"

Harley shielded herself with her hands weakly. "I know, Mr. J! I'm sorry!" Tears began to leak out of the corners of her eyes.

He _hated_ it when she cried. He _hated_ tears. It was a sign of weakness, which he did not appreciate coming from his right hand woman.

"If you _knew_ then why in the _HELL_ DID YOU CONTINUE?" He yelled, grabbing the front of her low-cut shirt and jerking her upright to face him directly. "WHEN DID YOU THINK THE RULES HAD CHANGED? WHEN YOU CHANGED YOU STUPID, SLUTTY LITTLE OUTFIT TO A _NEW_ SLUTTY LITTLE OUTFIT!"

"I just wanted to do something for your special night, puddin'!" she cried.

The Joker fumed. "DID I SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS NIGHT BEING SPECIAL?" He screamed.

"It's just that… _usually_ on a night like this, you're all happy! And I just wanted you to be happy, puddin'! I swear that's all! I just wanted you to smile—" As soon as the words left her mouth she knew she'd said the wrong thing.

"You wanted me to smile?" he asked, lowering his voice. "Well, then Harley…" There was a deadly pause; a pause which was short-lived. "THEN LOOK AT MY GODDAMN FACE, YOU IDIOT!" He leaned back, holding onto her shirt with one hand. "I'm _always_ smiling, Harley!"

Then, he shoved her backward. She stumbled as she tried to catch her balance and tripped over the bed and fell, hitting her head on the bedpost on her way down. She landed hard on her back and blood immediately spattered the floor, staining her blonde hair.

Deliberately and strictly frowning as he looked down at her collapsed body, he felt a pang of guilt as Harley coughed and tried to hold back her tears. She knew better than to fully break down in front of him.

He sighed as he stood there for a few minutes. Harley remained on the floor, holding back her sobs, but she could not suppress the flood of tears that were now mixed with the blood on the floor. The Joker's stomach dropped every time he looked down at her.

Everything was backwards!

With an irritated grunt, he walked over to her and gathered her in his arms, cradling her to his chest. She was surprised, jumping slightly at his touch. As he picked her up, she turned her tear stained face towards him, squinting at his face. "Puddin'?" she asked.

He didn't answer. He laid her down on the bed, walked to the bathroom, and picked up a washcloth from the floor. He went back to her. "Here." He said, handing Harley the cloth. "For your head."

She took it silently and put it beneath her head. He wondered how deep the gash was, but was able to brush the thought away.

Harley fell asleep in a matter of minutes and The Joker sat beside her on the bed, just looking down at her. The blood was beginning to dry, and the cut on the back of her head was slowing down the bleeding. Well… she wasn't dying.

What was it about this girl that affected him? He wanted her out of his life, but at the same time, he couldn't let her go. Every time he hurt her, he felt guilty and he wanted to fix her. He wanted to see her smile. She wasn't like him. She could choose her ups and downs. He had a permanent mark on his face.

Backwards, backwards. It was all backwards. He was The Joker! He felt no empathy, no guilt, no responsibility, no anything. But Harley… Harley was the exception. He felt everything for her. And that angered him to no extent.

He wanted to wring her neck. To press down so hard on her throat that it either broke in his hand or she just stopped breathing. He wanted her dead. But the thought of her lifeless body, the thought of her actually dying, made his stomach drop, a feeling he was becoming all to familiar with.

He never made a move to harm her. Didn't touch her at all. He just looked at her. He looked at her until it disgusted him to see her face anymore, but he still kept looking. There was something about Harley that entranced him, that drew him to her and her to him. They were incomplete without the other now.

He didn't remember how long he stared at her, but it must have been long enough. The light outside had receded to nothing except the city lights that took over the night sky and the stars were absent. Even the moon was gone from sight.

Finally, The Joker moved away from her and stood by the window. He leaned against the windowsill and stared out at his city again.

Sometime later, there was a quiet moan from the bed. Harley woke up and stretched, wincing at the pain in her head. The Joker did not turn to face her.

Harley looked around. "Puddin'?" she asked, turning to see him by the window. He didn't flinch. "Mr. J? Are you okay?"

He almost chuckled. Selfless as always, concerning herself with him and not the gash on the back of her head. The wound he had caused. His stomach dropped again.

The bed creaked as Harley took. The steps she took were light, but The Joker could hear every pad her shoe-less feet made on the floor. "Puddin'?" she asked, coming up behind him, but staying a safe distance away. "It's okay, puddin'." She told him. "I'm here for you. You don't gotta feel bad about nothing."

She knew. She always knew what he was feeling. It probably took a lot of courage for her to stand up there and say it flat out. That was admirable.

They both stood in silence for a moment.

Finally, Joker turned around and faced her. He took a few steps towards her. She didn't flinch or move away. She was ready for whatever was to come. It was all for him. That's what she lived for. So she was prepared.

Almost.

The Joker stared her in the eyes for what felt like eternity. Then he fell to his knees in front of her.

Slightly taken aback, her breath caught in her throat. She began to follow him to his knees, but he grasped her hips and buried his painted face into her shirt.

Completely shocked by the sudden explosion of emotion from him, tears sprung to her eyes. She held them back. She'd cried enough for tonight. It wasn't until she heard a strangled sob escape The Joker's lips that the tears broke the barrier.

He was crying. The Joker was crying.

"I don't know what to think anymore, Harley." He choked out, cursing himself silently for the tears that were streaming down his cheeks, his make-up running. "Everything's all wrong. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't remember why I'm here."

Unable to respond, Harley clutched at his head, running her fingers comfortingly through his hair. She couldn't hold him very well because of the way he was grasping her, but she did her best.

"Please, Harley." He whispered. "Please…"

"Okay, Mr. J." she agreed, though he never said what he was asking for. Although, he didn't really have to. "Anything you want, Mr. J."

The Joker looked up at her. He took her arms and pulled her down to kneel with him. He took her face in his hands and ran his fingers through her hair. He reached the gash and his lips lifted in disgust. "Did I do that?" he whispered.

Harley bit her lip, and took his hands out of her hair. "What do you want, puddin'?" she asked. "Whatever you need, I'll get it for ya."

"Harley…" He started, surveying her face. He licked his bottom lip again. "I'm… I'm sorry." He said finally.

She started to cry again. Harley threw her arms around The Joker's neck and clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her in return and buried his head into her neck in an attempt to stop himself from crying again. He was The Joker. The Clown Prince. He doesn't cry.

But for Harley he does.

"Hey," he whispered at last. "Look at me…"

She brought her head back to connect her eyes to his. Finally, she captured his lips with hers. And he let her. Not only did he let her, he welcomed it, and took her lips back with full force.

"I like the outfit." He whispered to her. "You should keep it."

She smiled. Her mini skirt and makeshift harlequin top and done the trick.

"It's a nice change." He smiled back.

"I love you, Mr. J." Harley whispered, kissing his cheeks where his scars lay.

"I know, baby girl." He said.

That was all she needed as conformation, though he would probably never ever say it.

Once again their lips connected. The Joker swept Harley up bridal style and carried her back over to the bed, throwing off the bloodstained pillow so it would not be there as a painful reminder.

Instead of continuing, Harley curled up onto The Joker's chest. He wrapped an arm around her and let her sleep. Eventually, he probably dosed off too, but he doesn't sleep much, so it was short lived.

And even though everything was still backwards, it all felt right lying there with Harley.

* * *

><p>Cheesy ending and a super creative title, I know. But I couldn't think of anything better.<p>

Joker/Harley is the best. I'm a firm believer that The Joker loves Harley as much as she loves him. They just love each other in different ways. But I like the idea of The Joker just having a breakdown because he doesn't want to love her.

I dunno… I'll probably write many different versions of The Joker crying. This is my second attempt. I don't know which one I like better. I definitely like the other ending better, though. I know that much.

R&R! It put's a Joker smile on my face.

Katie


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